


they’ll tell me that you’re mine

by anonymousdaredevils



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Captivity, Consent Issues, Gen, Human Trafficking, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 04:53:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4126117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousdaredevils/pseuds/anonymousdaredevils
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tonight we're selling something special.</p>
            </blockquote>





	they’ll tell me that you’re mine

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [ this prompt](http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/1742.html?thread=2958542#cmt2958542) on the kinkmeme:
> 
>  
> 
> _Daredevil is captured by human traffickers that do specialized kidnappings. They drug him or put him in a cage, and then put him on display and the badguys make bids to purchase him._
> 
>  
> 
>  **Warning:** While no actual noncon/dubcon takes place in this story, there are some disturbing discussions about what potential buyers would like to _do_ to Matt.

He wakes up to the scent of bloody water - he's lying in a puddle, it's not all his blood - and the feeling of bars pressing into his cheekbone, ribs. It's cold. 

(For a second, because his arms are cuffed behind him, he hopes that it's a police cell, that he's just been picked up by the cops and might only have to take a beating or two before they lock him up) But the room that he can perceive has the dim, shadowy, lopsided feel that means he's been hit in the head and damaged an eardrum. Even so, it's open, and empty, and the ceilings are too high and the structure is all wrong for a police station, for a holding cell. He doesn't know where he is but it doesn't sound or smell like - 

\- Oh, the bars that make up the roof of the cage, they're - they're low. He doesn't think he'd be able to stand upright, in this box, if he could manage the strength to stand. (He's stiff, right now, and there's an ache coming from his back that doesn't ever mean anything good.) 

_"- waking up now,"_ he hears, from - somewhere, there's no one in this room, no heartbeats, but - Fuck, how do they know he's - There's no one here, are there cameras? But where, he can't hear them - 

And it's not clear where the voices are coming from, if there's an air duct that's making it easier to hear, or if they're on the other side of a door - 

So it's a stupid idea, if there are cameras, but he won't lie here waiting to get shot. Matt picks one shoulder to not-quite-dislocate and fights his legs through his arms. It takes about thirty seconds and at the end of it he's panting with pain and a little dizzy, but now his hands are cuffed in front of him so the next time someone comes in he can at least make whoever tries to get him out of this cage regret it. 

_"- know he's given you trouble in the past, but honestly my boss wants something with that - particular skillset? It's not like you need this particular asshole in a mask to prove you beat him, right? Grab some poor fucker, shoot him, dress the body up in a mask, parade him around, Bob's your uncle -"_

Whoever it is, they're talking about him, they're talking about him and it's a friendly, casual, just-us-boys tone but it's - but they - Matt needs to get out of here - 

_"No,"_ he hears, a little tinny but recognizable, fucking recognizable, that's Fisk, what is he doing here, where the fuck is this, this is not okay, this is - Matt doesn't quite realize that he's gotten a leg under him, on his knees, enough leverage in the tight space to ram the door to the cage hard with his one good shoulder, because - 

_"No,"_ Wilson Fisk says. _"Regrettably, I understand, but - In this specific instance - I have a not inconsiderable stake, in the matter at hand. Please do -"_ Matt is going to hyperventilate, he's - 

_"Whoa,"_ someone else says, he can hear them, sounding amused and interested - _"Look at that, he got worked up all of a sudden -"_

_"Wait, can he **hear** -"_

_"No,"_ a male voice, a calm male voice, it sounds familiar, Matt knows that voice. _"Gentlemen, we guarantee the privacy of all of our guests, I assure you."_

_"You assure **shit,** nobody knows if he's human or not -"_

(Someone else, somewhere, crackly like it's coming over a radio: _Get him under control, Jesus, if he kicks the bar out in the middle of the auction do you know how pissed the boss is gonna be_?) which: yes, that is absolutely the fucking plan, Matt's got his shoulders braced on the floor and they pulled his boots off so even though he's kicking as hard as he can, breaking at least one small bone in his foot with the impact, it's not working, it's going to take far too long, that doesn't matter, it - He can't stop hearing it, listening with horror to - 

_"Fifty thousand, then -"_

_"Oh, I saw that mouth, sixty thousand -"_

_"Unimaginative bastard that you are, that's the best you can think of? Seventy -"_

And unfortunately kicking the bars means clanging, a lot of clanging, the echoes are fucking with his perception of the room and he's still only got one ear that feels reliable, which is probably why he misses the asshole with the taser until it's too late. 

 

He wakes up listening to people speculate about what it would be like to fuck him. 

He is barefoot and dizzy and he thought he'd gotten his hands in front of him, at least, but they're behind him again. It's hard to focus. Is he wearing the mask? He thinks so, but he thought he was wearing a shirt, and people are - 

\- are saying some truly terrifying things. Like: 

_"Oh, look at how confused he is, poor thing,"_ and 

_"You just want to kill him for that thing with the Chinese, **I** can get my money back - "_

and 

_"Oh, you'll make money, with a vigilante like that -"_

and someone calling them to order, Matt knows that someone, he - 

_"Gentlemen. Ladies. If you will,"_ calm and steady. _"We'll continue."_

Fisk is there. 

This is not good, he needs - Matt doesn't recognize any of the other voices. He doesn't know any of these people, but for the - talker, where does he know him from? - But he cannot lose his mask in front of Fisk, literally anyone else is bad, bad, very bad, but no one else here would be able to identify Matt Murdock by his face. 

Matt doesn't carry any kind of ID when he puts the suit on. 

He's pretty sure he can shut up if strangers are hurting him. 

_"Shall we continue?"_ the someone says. 

 

It's a woman who winds up buying him - _buying_ \- How is this his - life? It feels both like a nightmare and a sick, sick joke, and absolutely a real situation that is going to get him killed. He's sweating. They've probably given him some kind of drug, because he's having a lot of trouble focusing, and he's sweating a lot. 

Ever since the accident, Matt's had trouble with drugs: he gets unexpectedly bad reactions from some things, no reaction from others, weird allergies - even before the mask meant that he had to care about hospitals, he'd hated them. He was allergic to iodine. 

Whatever this was, it felt like it was giving him a rash, or a fever, or - or something. It felt not good, and also he could hear a weird scraping noise from the roof of the building, and it was very difficult to stop focusing on that. 

Someone's unlocking the cage door. 

He knows the smart thing to do would be to try to - try to rush whoever it was, but he thinks he's lost his chance and he's half naked and barefoot and - and - He crowds back into the corner furthest from the door, because fuck it, they put him in this cage, now they're going to have to get him out. This is alien and terrifying but if they try to drag him out he's going to make some people hurt, at least. His hands might be cuffed behind his back but he can grab the bars, set himself, get ready for someone to come in and try to drag him out. 

"They always do this," someone says, and he bares his teeth - he doesn't even mean to do it, just can't help himself, this is not good and he can't stop panting - 

He might have forgotten that it's open to the air, which is why someone else is able to set their booted foot on the fist he's gotten around one of the bars and slowly put weight on it. He yells. If that wasn't a finger breaking it was a finger popping; there's a grinding noise and a shrieking feel of pain coming from that hand, now. 

"Come on, tough guy," somebody else says, and when he's out of the cage, humiliated, he can't even stand up. He's falling, he's falling a lot, and someone is half-dragging half-carrying him out of the larger room and into a smaller room, the woman who won the auction is here, this is - not - good - 

He greys out a little. 

He can't stop panicking and he can't stop shaking and he can't get his breathing under control, and somewhere in that someone takes his mask off, because he can feel the air on his face. His face is wet. He's not sure if it's sweat or something else, because sweat or - or something else - Both smell salty. He can't focus. 

"Goddamnit," the woman says, sounding disgusted, "They should've kept him from throwing himself around in there like a rat, look at this shit, ridiculous, why did I drop that much?"

"Well," another woman says. "Yeah, fuck it. Look at that. How do we even know this is the Devil, huh, they probably just grab some scramble-headed idiot and threw a mask on him." 

"I am going to go raise hell," the woman says. "Unprofessional, who do they think they're kidding here." 

She leaves. 

Matt feels sick, really sick, and cold, and like if he tries to move around any more he is going to throw up, a lot, so he winds up curling up on the floor and trying not to pay attention to the details that he's picking up, which include blood, a lot of it, mostly human, a bunch of different kinds, and sweat, and other things. 

So he doesn't hear it until there's two people talking outside the door, the woman, obviously, still sounding calm and irritated, "Just - I mean, whatever, it's not like Daddy is going to be mad about the money, it's just - I don't come here to get jerked around like this." 

and Fisk outside the door making sympathetic noises, saying: "Of course. It would be. I understand, although I've found our - hosts - to hold themselves. To a higher standard of - business."

"Yeah, yeah," she says. 

Matt is shuddering so hard he can't quite feel his fingers or toes any more, they've gone sort of numb and tingly. 

"If I might," Fisk says, rumbling. "Just to - perhaps I might be able to offer some assistance, with your particular problem."

The woman laughs. "Fuck, you wanna look too, don't you? Fine, I don't care, waste of fucking money, you'll see, totally gonzo in there -"

Someone pulls his head up by the hair, which is - Matt really cannot. breathe. at this point, this is the worst, worst, worst situation, and he finally, finally starts losing consciousness when he hears Fisk murmur, "Hm. Yes... I see what you mean. It does look like brain damage."


End file.
